


Rising Tide

by wednesday



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-19 13:49:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20210806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wednesday/pseuds/wednesday
Summary: A chance meeting in Novigrad.





	Rising Tide

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Filigranka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filigranka/gifts).

There’s a blade at his throat and a hand between his shoulders pushing him forward, but Roche feels calm. The fear only sparks and spreads through him when he hears the voice of his attacker.

“Truly, I didn’t think even you could be stupid enough to want to sneak into Novigrad.”

“Iorveth,” he growls before he can stop himself. Roche must have unbelievably bad luck to run into Iorveth of all people. Iorveth pushes him deep into the shadows of a filthy alley, a hand stays on Roche’s shoulder, but the blade disappears. It’s immediately suspicious.

“This place is like an anthill full of angry dh’oine after your latest trick,” Iorveth says, far too close for comfort. “What are you doing here?”

Roche grits his teeth and keeps silent. Anyone else he’d leave to their fate after that kind of fuck up, but he owes it to Ves to at least try getting her out.

“What do you want?” he demands instead, and tries to turn around. Iorveth only plays at trying to stop him and relents almost instantly. It makes Roche a lot more fucking worried. Face to face it’s still too damn dark to see anything. He can feel how close Iorveth is standing, though, when the heat from his breaths hits the side of Roche’s jaw.

“Oh, I think I know why you’re here in this swarm of witch hunters,” Iorveth half-whispers.

There’s the sound of someone armored walking past the mouth of the alley. Iorveth steps even closer. His free hand settles on Roche’s hip, and he can feel the hilt of the knife press against him through all the layers of his clothes.

“There’s something I want in those cells, too, and you’re going to help me.”

Gods, Roche wishes he could refuse. He doesn’t.


End file.
